


Cyclonus Fell First

by GreyLiliy



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Character Study, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-01
Updated: 2013-10-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:14:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22594612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreyLiliy/pseuds/GreyLiliy
Summary: Contrary to belief, it was Cyclonus who fell first.
Relationships: Cyclonus/Tailgate (Transformers)
Kudos: 25





	Cyclonus Fell First

**Author's Note:**

> [First posted to Tumblr on October 1, 2013 as “Drabble #67 - Tailgate/Cyclonus.” Crossposted to Archive of Our Own on February 6, 2020. Only the work itself has been posted.]
> 
> Written as a Request.

Contrary to belief, it was Cyclonus who fell first.

The minibot he found at his feet on that first day of the trip, whose legs were caught in mid-transformation, was for lack of a better word–helpless. It stirred a protective instinct that served to fuel Cyclonus’ subservient nature. Whether Primus, Galvatron or his cause, Cyclonus lived to protect and serve.

The little mech begged for that sort of attention.

But having been burnt by all three of his masters over time, and having grown bitter, Cyclonus dropped the feeling of desire that burned behind his chest as heavily as he dumped the minibot in their soon to be shared quarters.

But it didn’t last. Things of the spark this way never do. Primus has a way of reaching in through the amor and casing and twisting until his children did as he willed.

Tailgate was persistent in his pursuing of Cyclonus, as if he were guided by that same divine intervention. Cyclonus reacted the opposite of what he felt inside to cover up the stirrings of desire, but eventually he could no longer fight it. Tailgate begged for his attention, figuratively and literally at every opportunity.

It was enough to drive Cyclonus mad. He couldn’t afford it, he argued to himself as he lied like the Decepticons the ignorant claimed he followed. Cyclonus could never afford to be betrayed so badly again, and certainly not from someone so small. So young. So innocent. Cyclonus fought it.

He snarled, and he slapped the minibot away. Every desperate glance or tapping foot step behind him. Cyclonus ignored them. He crushed them.

Every strike against the tiny mech a stab to his own longing and desire for that comfort and stability that being someone’s guardian would bring him.

Little Tailgate.

The mech who had protected Cyclonus when he hadn’t needed to–dragged him dying and helpless to aid. The lonely mech, who’s empathy ran deep under his jubilant and panicked nature. The mech who’d given Cyclonus a precious, precious gift as a token of his desperate affection.

The first mech to look at him without fear, but with a longing for direction and guidance.

Cyclonus began giving up the act, one action at a time. How could he be expected to fight it?

Talking to him, inviting him to things, being interested in Cyclonus’ company–all while being that small helpless thing so full of affection and the need to be defended.

Even the mere ease of which Tailgate fell into recharge in his presence, tore at Cyclonus’ spark in a way he couldn’t have put into song should he try. Tailgate trusted him.

Tailgate trusted him.

Step by step, Cyclonus started his path toward the cliff side, wings clipped and will weak. He talked to Tailgate. He stood by his side. Cyclonus sang. He adored Tailgate, though he dare not breath it aloud for fear it would disappear from his grasp. In silence, Cyclonus dove off that edge into the beyond, willing and groping for this precious thing.

Yes, Cyclonus fell hard.

Like a strike to the spark with a holy sword.


End file.
